


Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of Parenthood

by NikaAnuk



Series: To be continued? [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Parenthood, Sherlock is really irresponsible, and John is really pissed off, and when I say fluff I mean it, but finally they reach an agreement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:49:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock came back from the dead but he did not come back alone. How the life in 221B will look like when the three years old boy is around? Can Sherlock be a good father for a little boy? What will John do when Sherlock asks him for help? </p><p>Or fluff, fluff fluff and some more fluffy fluff. </p><p>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank dearest JellybeanPimp for beta!

1.

“You are absolutely the worst person I have ever known!” John shouted.

Sherlock stood in the kitchen doorway, watching his flatmate and rubbing his face gently.

“John...”

“No, Sherlock. No.” The doctor shook his head. “I don't...I just… I _cannot_ _believe_ you've done this! This is not an experiment!”

He was standing in the middle of the living room tense and furious. And Sherlock was – like usual – the cause of his unfortunate state.

“I know, John...” The detective tried again. “But that's not his fault, alright? There is no need to wake him up.”

And the change in John's face told Sherlock that he thought correctly. John was pissed off at Sherlock – mostly because of his disappearance three years ago – but he did not want to interrupt the sleeping child, Edrik. And the boy was the second reason of John's anger. Hamish Edrik Holmes, who was sleeping in the upstairs bedroom, tugged with a blanket, with his favourite toy – Mr. Rabbit.

“You will not use him against me.” said John coldly. “You will _never ever_ use that boy against me or I _will_ leave you, taking him with me.”

Normally, Sherlock would have made a comment about how quickly John became attached to the boy but this time he bit his tongue. The doctor was not joking and Sherlock did not want him to leave. But taking the boy away would be nice...

“I understand.” He answered simply as John ran his hand through his hair. He was visibly tired and Sherlock licked his lips, making sure to choose his next words wisely. “You should take a nap in my bedroom, since Edrik is in yours.” He said carefully.

John only nodded and left him heading to the bathroom. Sherlock thought that maybe taking the boy into their quaint apartment of Baker Street was not that good idea after all.

He sat down in the kitchen, where his microscope was waiting with unfinished work. But instead of focusing on the experiment, but his thoughts always circled back to the day he told John that he had a son.

 

This was just two days earlier, to tell the truth. Edrik was still at Mycroft's place where a babysitter was taking the care of him. But Mycroft started to insist Sherlock should take him, unable to keep up with the boy’s flood of inquiries. So, the younger Holmes decided to throw John against the wall and just show up with the boy in his hands.

Edrik was just a three years old boy, with curly dark hair and stunning blue eyes. He was just like his dad; except for few freckles which will probably disappear over time.

The first time John saw the boy, Edrik had his arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck, holding as so called ‘Mr. Rabbit’ in his hands. He was looking around, very interested with his new surroundings, but the moment he spotted John, he focused only on the man.

“John, this is my son, Edrik.” Sherlock had stated, but it was visible to virtually everyone that they are father and son. John went pale and almost collapsed on to the floor. Just recently, he discovered that Sherlock was in fact alive – yes, he did it on his own, Sherlock was _very_ proud of him – and now this.

Sherlock put the boy on the floor so he could walk over to John.

The doctor crouched in front of him and reaching for him.

“Hello.” He said with a smile. “What's your name?”

“Hamish Edrik Holmes.” The boy answered, watching the man carefully. “And yours?” The child asked with a serious tone, taking John back.

“John, John Hamish Watson. We have the same names.” He smiled.

Sherlock watched them together, catching his breath. He had thought he knew everything about his doctor but, that simply was not true. John touched Edrik's cheek gently. “You look exactly like your dad, you know that?”

The boy shook his head and half turned to look at Sherlock. The detective came closer to them and placed his hand on the boy's head.

“I want him to stay with us.” He said. “He can sleep in your bedroom and you can take mine. I don't need it either way.”

John stood up and shook his head.

“You need to sleep, Sherlock. Don't think that I'll let you use the boy to avoid sleeping. You need your rest.” His tone was sharp as he talked to the detective.

“But John, this is...”

“Don't, Sherlock.” John warned. “I am not even close to finished with you. We have to talk about this. Sure, you can put him to my bed, yes. I have the night shift anyway. But, don't think I'll take care of him while you’re out chasing after criminals, Sherlock. That won't happen.”

 

And as it used to be, John did not keep up his promise – fortunately.

It was yesterday, when Sherlock finally got the call from Lestrade and he just took his coat and ran out from the house. Mrs. Hudson was downstairs, John slept in his bedroom. There was no need to be worry about the boy.

He would spend his day on the streets, helping Lestrade and when he came back it was almost seven pm. John was just leaving for work when he threw Sherlock an angry look, closing the door behind him. And for the moment everything went according to Sherlock's plan. He should have known better that the doctor would not forget that easily.

The next day they started to fight.

Sherlock spent his morning reading until John came home. He even made him a cup of tea, a gesture which was left unnoticed.

“Where were you yesterday?” John asked with dark circles under his eyes and anger in his voice.

“Working.” The detective answered, tense, he could feel what was going to happen next.

“Sherlock, I told you that I would not take care of Edrik _instead of_ you. This is your son and this is your responsibility.”

“I did not leave him alone. And I was back before you went to work. So why are you so distraught?”

The detective turned to his flatmate. Watson was staring at him, not sure if he was more pissed off or he could just not believe what he was hearing.

“But you cannot leave him just like that, Sherlock. He was asking about you. He wanted to know where you were...”

“You should have told him that I was working. I said that to him in the evening when he asking about you.”

For a moment John's face softened and Sherlock mentally patted himself on the back. _Almost._

Not even a second later John looked more pissed off than he was before.

“That's not the solution, Sherlock. You will spend more time with the boy, no more babysitters and no sending him to Mrs. Hudson. This is your son.” He took a sip of the tea set out by Sherlock for him and took off the watch and undone two buttons of his shirt.

“It's not like I ever wanted him.” Sherlock shrugged. And he should have known better than to say something like that to John.

“I'm sorry, _what_?” The doctor looked at him with his hand half raised to his collar.

“It was a kind of experiment, John. But I never wanted to have a _child_. I wanted to see if I could have any effect on him. And that seems...”

John cut the distance between them and hit Sherlock dead on. The detective fell on to the cabinet with surprised cry. He felt pain in his jaw and ribs where he hit on the wood was something he would never aspect John to cause. The surprise attack and the pain that came with it, made it hard to stand for a moment. Through the hum within his head he had heard John walk out of the kitchen. He put himself together very quickly and followed him.

“John...” he tried to explain in different terms, but the doctor had cut him off.

“You're the worst person that I have _ever_ known!” John shouted.

 

2.

“Sherlock?” John's voice was calm, but still cold and the detective raised his head. Watson was standing in the doorway holding Edrik's hand. The boy was rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Your son is awake; take care of him, will you?”

Sherlock stood up and reached his hands to Hamish, the boy walked to him and hugged his legs. Holmes felt John's gaze at him when he put his hand on Edrik's head. Then the doctor turned around and went upstairs.

“Come on, we will need breakfast.” Sherlock sat the boy up on the cabinet. “We have milk so I propose milk with chocolate cornflakes.”

“Why are you hurt?” The boy reached for Sherlock's jaw where bruise started to be visible.

“Because I made John angry and he felt the need to hit me. People sometimes do this to lessen the pressure in which they have been placed under.”

Edrik nodded, holding his rabbit on his lap started to play with his ear while Sherlock was fixing the child his breakfast.

It’s not like he didn’t loved Edrik. He was a perfect Holmes – very smart and very keen to discover new things, he was learning faster than most children ever would. Sherlock was proud of him because he could write his name – Edrik for now, Hamish was still too long and the s still confused the boy a little – and even Mycroft was smitten by the young Holmes.

Sherlock sat his son in his high chair which was delivered by Mycroft's people the day Edrik started living here. Sherlock sat down on the chair near to his son as Edrik started to eat with a spoon, but somehow fork was still easier for him.

The problem was that Sherlock did not want to give up his work. He loved it and he only wanted to be able to have both of them – the work and his son. It worked with John: he could solve crimes with him and they live together, but he knew that John would most likely kill him for risking Edrik's life. So, for now he had to wait until the doctor will calm down before he could talk to him. And maybe John will agree for some compromise. He knew how important work was for Sherlock.

 

After the breakfast Sherlock left his notes and took Hamish up to his room – John's room - to help him change. The doctor was fast asleep. So, Sherlock only covered him with a blanket and took some clothes out for Edrik. They were supposed to go for a walk, so that Edrik could get some fresh air. Lately he started to explore new territories and he was interested in almost everything, all of it restoring in a dirty pile of clothes. Once they walked out, they took a cab and drove to the nearest park. And there Sherlock could do what has become his hobby in the past three years: watching his son among the other children.

Growing up Sherlock had never gotten any extra attention from his father and he was aware that his almost non-stop focusing on Edrik was being caused for two reasons. First, he was just curious and fascinated by the small life, but on the other hand he tried to see everything what his father have missed, being always busy with his work.

Edrik chose to play in sandpit today. He sat on the edge of it and started to dig, fascinated with the texture of sand between his fingers. Sherlock watched his son discovering that the sand placed deeper is colder and it is mostly wet. The boy stood up with a handful of sand and walked to his father to show it to him.

“Sand, Edrik. This is sand.” Sherlock tried to explain simply to the lad.

Hamish moved his fingers and the grains ran through them. He looked at him father with big blue eyes full of surprise.

“When it's dry it's loose. You can find it on deserts and on seashores around the world.”

The woman next to them looked at him with a surprise, but Sherlock ignored her. Especially since that her four year old son was running around with a stick, beating other children.

“Do you want to do some experiments with sand?” Sherlock asked his son. And the boy nodded with bright eyes. He loved doing experiments with his father.

Sherlock stood up and taking Edrik's hand he led him back to the sandpit. He handed him a little bag for evidence and the boy started to pick some sand in it. The action alone was fun and at the end Edrik looked at his father with a smile. He closed the bag – one of first things Sherlock taught him: bag with evidences must be always closed – and reached for his dad. With a small bag of sand in his hand he followed after Sherlock.

Walking slowly around the park Holmes talked about the place and trees. They stopped for a moment to watch ducks in a small pond when Sherlock heard barking, which ended up being a Golden Retriever running towards them. Edrik cried and hid behind his dad's legs, which seemed like an invitation for playing to the dog.

“Easy now.” Sherlock knelt and placed his hand on dog's head. He wrapped his arm around Edrik and shifted him closer to himself. “Come and see, this is dog. You saw them before, remember?”

The boy looked from under his fringe at the animal. “This is only a dog.”

“I'm so sorry!” Woman's voice came from above and Sherlock just then raised his head. She fasted the dog on the leash. “I'm so sorry. I hope he's okay! Hello, little one.” She crouched down next to dog and smiled at Edrik. “Her name is Mina. And she only wanted to say hello.”

The dog looked at her and at Edrik again.

The boy leaned more on his father, blushing.

“Why it has this?” he asked, pointing at the leash.

“This is leash, Edrik. Thanks to this, the woman can control the dog.” He explained. “You can stroke it if you want to.”

Edrik reached to the golden fur when Mina turned her head and licked the hand. The boy moved it back with a laugh.

“She is showing you that she likes you.” Sherlock explained. He straightened and looked at the woman who mirrored his movement. “Thank you for your patience.”

“My pleasure.” She smiled. “You have a great son, he seems very intelligent. I'm Susan.” She reached her hand out to him but Sherlock raised his eyebrow and looked first at the hand next at the woman; noticing something that he hadn’t before, since he was focused on Edrik.

“And I'm not interested.” He said as he took Edrik away from the woman and her dog. “Come on, we're going to do some experiments at home.”

 

When they came back, John was still asleep, so Sherlock chose the living room as a place for doing their experiments. He took a big bowl, a glass and a jug full of water. Then he sat down on the floor with Edrik.

“Good, now do you remember that some things can swim and others cannot?” He asked and the boy nodded. “Right. Let's see if the sand can swim. I'll fill the glass with water and now you throw a handful of sand in there. Ready?”

He handed him the glass and watched his son pouring the sand in it. The boy watched for a moment and then looked at him father.

“Not swimming” he said.

“No. That is why the sand is on the bottom of the sea. Do you want to see what water can do to sand?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then put all the sand here.” Sherlock showed the bowl and waited for a moment. “And now I'll pour some water in here. We will have to go to see the sea one day so you can ascertain how it works on a beach. The water there is moving there so the sand is regularly wetted and drying.”

The boy watched his father and then he looked into the bowl. The sand was already wet and in a second later was covered by water. Edrik put his hand inside and opened his eyes surprised with the sensation of wet sand. He put the other hand as well, as he started playing with the sand. When he raised one of them it was wet and coated with grains so he put it back in.

Sherlock spend a good half an hour watching the boy. He was proud of him and he was glad Edrik was coming out so Holmes-like. Otherwise this would be really hard for him to raise the boy.

“May I?” He asked finally, wanting to show the boy something else.

“Yes, please.”

Sherlock pour the water to the jug carefully and then he placed all sand on the floor.

“And now, thanks to the water the sand is not loose anymore and you can shape it.”

And that was the action during which John came to the living room. He stopped suddenly when he saw both Holmes on the floor playing with the sand. He raised his eyebrows more because of Sherlock playing with his son then at the sandpit in the middle of the living room. It was not more surprising than a dead head in the fridge. Then he came closer to them and Edrik looked up at him with a smile.

“Look! Experiments!” He raised his head, showing to John the wet sand on his hands.

“Yes, I see.” The man smiled and sat down next to him. “Seriously, Sherlock? Experiments?”

“Edrik is at the best age to learn. Children learn the most during the first years of their lives. Yes you, Edrik.” He added when the boy looked at him.

John smiled and watched the boy playing.

“We should eat.” He said and ruffled Edrik's hair. “Will you play for a moment? I want to talk with your father. Sherlock, can I ask you for a moment?”

The detective nodded and followed John to the kitchen.

“You should really clean the place up if Edrik is supposed to eat here.” He said putting the kettle on.

“I'll do this later.” Sherlock offered and sat down on the chair, looking at his son.

“Sherlock...” The detective turned his gaze at John. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been saying all of this. But you pissed me off with this experiment. You do understand that a child is a responsibility, right?”

“Of course I know that, John!”

Holmes stood up and walked to the fridge where on the 'Safe Shelf' – free from body parts – was a pot with a soup for Edrik.

“And this is the only reason I'm saying sorry, Sherlock. Please, never let Edrik to hear he was just an experiment because even if I know what you mean by that, he will be hurt.”

Sherlock put the pot on and he thought for a moment. Maybe that was the thing he needed right now: John telling him if he is doing fine?

John came closer to him and rested his hand on detective's arm.

“You're a great father, Sherlock. But you have to understand that you love him and what it means for both of you.”

“You're talking rubbish, John. You're here to teach him about social behaviours.”

“This is your son, Sherlock.”

“But you love him too.” The detective looked at Watson and John dropped his gaze. “You cared about him the first moment you saw him. Just like it was with me, we just fit together.” He shrugged pouring some soup into Edrik's bowl. “Edrik?”

The boy came to the kitchen, leaving tracks of sand everywhere.

“The water is out.” He said, looking at his father.

Sherlock nodded calmly and placed the bowl on the table.

“John, will you take him to the bathroom? I'll clean this up.”

And John nodded taking Edrik's hand, leading him to the bathroom. Usually he would clean the mess but maybe Sherlock really learned something while he was taking care of Edrik. He helped the boy with washing his hands and to back the kitchen, sitting him down on his chair.

They were all in the kitchen: Edrik eating his soup trying to use the spoon, John with a toast and tea and Sherlock, busy with taking notes from some research. And for John Watson it looked like a family dinner. The best he ever would have.

 

 


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And again, thanks for JellybeanPimp for beta!

1.

Today was the last day that John had the night shift. The next two days he had off, and after that he would start working his usual day shifts. He was looking forward to the free days he had to spend some time with Sherlock and Edrik. 

It was surprising for him how quickly he became attached to the boy. It was true that he always liked children and that Edrik was a sweet little lad, but there was more - Hamish (John still did not know why Sherlock was using the boy's second name more often than the first one) was like his father: very curious, very intelligent, but also in ways, very sensitive. And when looking at them together, John could not help but feel the need to protect them both. He really thought about them as his family. 

After the walk and lunch, Edrik had sat down and started to draw. Frist a woman, then a dog while John stayed with him so Sherlock could finish his notes. It seemed fair while the detective was the one who took care of Edrik in the morning. 

“Dad doesn't like the woman.” Edrik said once, colouring the dog - or the animal which supposed to be a dog, according to what the boy said. 

“What do you mean?” John asked. 

He, like Sherlock, would always use a normal tone and simple language when speaking with the boy. Edrik was smart enough to understand it. He seemed to be learning new words pretty fast.

“Dog wanted to say hello, but dad didn't want to say hello to the lady.” The boy explained. 

“How do you know this?” John looked at the boy from above the latest medical magazine. 

“He didn't give her hand...” The boy changed the crayon and started to draw dog's tongue. 

John froze, staring at the three years old boy who just did his first observation. 

“Sherlock?” He called.

“Yes, John?”

“You have to come here. Really.” He added when the detective ignored him. “It's about Edrik.”

And it was enough for Sherlock to leave his experiment and come to the living room. What he saw confused him because there was only his son sitting at the coffee table and drawing and John sitting in the armchair with some medical magazine on his lap, staring at the boy.

“What?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Edrik, love, can you repeat what you just said?” asked John.

And the boy looked at him for a moment, then he turned to his father and repeated. 

“Daddy didn't want to say hello to this lady with the dog, ‘cause he did not shook her hand.”

The look on Sherlock’s face - the brilliant mix of pride, joy, and disbelief - told John that he understood immediately.

They exchanged looks, showing the same pride they held for Edrik. John smiled at Sherlock, glad because of his happiness.

“That's bad?” The boy asked and looked at his father again. 

“No, Edrik. No, you're a very, very clever boy and I'm very happy you noticed.”

“Why you didn't say hello? She had a dog.”

“She wanted to talk to us a lot and we had an experiment to do, right?”

The boy nodded and started to draw again. John watched him for a moment and then looked at Sherlock who was still standing in the living room, staring at his son. He felt John's gaze, and looked at him. John warmly smiled back at him, opening his magazine again. Their son had just made his first observation. Soon he will be as annoying as Sherlock was. John didn’t even notice when the boy become 'their' son. Then again, he didn’t mind. 

 

Later that day they all went for a walk, not far from the flat. It was to mainly get out of the house to go to Speedy’s café. It started to rain when they were at the park, but Edrik wanted to go to the café for cake and tea so they sat down inside. John himself, ordered coffee instead of tea. 

“We should go home so you could change. Then we can come back here.” said John, running his hand through wet dark curls. 

“No.” The boy said. “I want my tea. Daddy, I want my tea sweet.”

Sherlock smiled and took the sugar bowl. 

“I'll show you another experiment. Do you remember about things swimming and drowning in the water?” The boy nodded watching his father, fascinated. “There are also substances which can dissolve in the water. Tea is just water with some tea leaves, and if this is warm you can dissolve sugar in it. Do you want to try?”

“Yes, please.”

John cocked his head. He didn't know who taught Edrik to always answer 'yes please,' but it had to have been Mycroft. It sounded like something Mycroft would teach him. He watched as Sherlock poured a spoon of sugar in son's cup. 

“Now you have to mix it.” He said, the boy doing as he was told. “Can you see the sugar inside?” Sherlock watched with a smile as his son looked into the cup; looking back up at his father wih a surprised look. 

“No.” He shook his head. 

“Exactly. And your tea should be sweet now. Try it.”

Edrik sipped the tea and laughed. 

“Can we put more sugar in it?” He asked. 

Sherlock nodded. 

“There is always solubility, which is the maximal amount of a substance you can dissolve in the water.” 

“Sherlock, do you really think that you should explain it to him? I doubt he will understand or even remember.” John said softly and Holmes looked at him with surprise. 

“But this is easy, John. Every child should know this.”

“Not the three years old, yeah?” He smiled.

“Let's put more!” Edrik pulled father's sleeve to get his attention. Sherlock agreed because he could hardly say 'no' to his son.

John watched as Sherlock and Edrik were counting how many spoons of sugar could dissolve in one cup of tea. The boy’s clothes and hair seemed to be dry, which all in all was a good sign. But John would still prefer to take him home so he could change. He had offered that the experiment could be done in their flat as well, when Edrik took a sip of the tea; immediately spitting it out back into the cup.

“It's not tasty.” He complained looking at his father, with a pout on his face. 

John laughed and ruffled boy's dark hair. 

“If you use too much salt or sugar or if you eat too many sweets then you tend to feel sick and your stomach will hurt.” He added. 

The boy looked at him like he was the most important person in the whole world just because he was teaching him something. When John looked towards Sherlock he noticed detective's fond smile; which disappeared a second later when he stood up. 

“Let's go home, you can have tea there and I'll show you what you can do with the flour and salt.”

The boy stood up immediately and ran out of the café. 

“Edrik!” John shouted and followed after him, grabbing his arm. The boy raised his head with a look of surprise. No one ever shouted at him before. “You mustn’t run out like this.” John said. He pulled the boy away from the road and he knelt in front of the boy. “You mustn't run like this, because you could run on the road and you could be hit by a car. Dad and I would be really worried about you. Do you understand?” 

Edrik nodded; his eyes still big from surprise. He wasn’t scared, just fascinated by the new experience. 

“I'm sorry.” He said. 

Sherlock came to them and placed his hand on John's shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

Watson looked up at the detective. 

“I just told him why he cannot run around on the street.” He explained. 

Sherlock nodded.

“Let's go home, he has to change.” 

Edrik took both of their hands as they walked back to the flat. 

 

2.

John was getting ready for his last night shift in this month when Edrik came to him with one of his books. He had a few of them, mostly bought by Mycroft. They were talking about various things: police, cars, fire brigade and an emergency service. All institutions serving society; that could be found in the city. Mycroft Holmes cared about his nephew in very strange way. 

“What can I do for you?” John asked with a smile. 

“Can you read for me?”

“And what about your dad?” 

“He read me the day before.” 

John nodded and took the book from boy's hands. He had at least an hour before he had to go out and Edrik was already in his pyjamas, so John lifted the covers of the bed for him to join him while he read. 

“Come in.” He smiled. 

Edrik laid down with Mr. Rabbit and let John to cover him up. He smiled at John while the man sat next to him. 

“Did your uncle give you Mr. Rabbit?” The doctor asked with a smile. 

“No, dad did. Mr. Rabbit was his once.”

John raised his eyebrows. He would have never thought of Sherlock having a ‘favourite’ toy as a child, but then again, every child has that, don’t they? 

“And he gave you Mr. Rabbit? That's very nice of him.”

Edrik nodded. John ruffled his hair gently and started to read about the small train which taught children about the way they should act on the metro station. 

The boy lay down calmly, listening to doctor's voice, he was crumpling Mr. Rabbit's ear until he fell asleep in the middle of the adventure. Maybe the book was not as interesting as Mycroft thought it would be for a young boy or maybe it just worked. John tugged Edrik in the blanket and kissed his head gently. And then he took his things and walked downstairs to the living room. 

“Sherlock?” The detective was sitting on the couch with his laptop. He raised his head. “I'm leaving and Edrik is asleep, have an eye on him, will you?”

Holmes nodded. 

“Sure.”

“I was just wondering.” The doctor continued putting on his jacket. “If his first name is Hamish, why are you using 'Edrik'?” 

Sherlock looked at him raising his eyebrow. 

“I didn't know if you wanted me to use it. You made a comment once, but I didn't know if you were serious.”

John stopped for a moment and then just nodded. 

“I don't mind. It is his name and I didn't know you would take it so seriously...”

“I didn't have my skull anymore, so I need something else.” Sherlock said, as if it explained anything. 

John just nodded and walked out. 

 

 

Come home. -SH

 

I'm at work, Sherlock. - JW

 

Come home, you are needed here. -SH 

 

What happened? Something with Edrik? -JW

 

He has a high fever. -SH

 

How high? -JW

 

37 degrees Celsius. - SH

 

Fortunately you don't need to give him anything. Make him a lukewarm bath. If he'll feel worse, give him Tylenol. -JW

 

Come home. -SH

 

I'm at work. -JW

 

He's asking about you. -SH

 

 

John took his jacket off and walked over to the nurses table. 

“I'm sorry, but I have to go home. There seem to be no patients under my register. So, would it be a problem?” He said, looking at the empty surgery. 

The woman looked up at him from her desk chair. 

“Why? Has something happened?”

“Yes, my flatmate's son is ill and he wants me to come home.” He answered zipping up his jacket. 

“Oh, you're helping him? That's so nice of you.” She smiled. “And yes, go. I think we will manage, and if something were to happen I'll make sure to call you.”

John stopped and smiled at her. 

“Thank you.” 

His mind was so focused on Edrik and the fact that the boy was sick, that he did not even notice the smile she gave him. He though over every possible scenario and hoped that the fever would sky rocket any further. They let Edrik sit in wet clothes and that probably caused the fever. Lucky for him that Sherlock did not want to take care of Edrik himself, hence asking John for help. 

He thought about the tube, but had decided that would be better to take a cab. 

Sometime later he arrived at Baker Street and paid the driver before rushing out and inside the flat. Sherlock was not in the living room. John took off his shoes and his jacket before heading to the bedroom. The detective was sitting on the edge of the bed with the towel in his hand, using it to wet Edrik's forehead. 

“How is he?” John asked quietly. He came closer and placed his hand at boy's cheek. 

“He's better now. I think.”

Edrik opened his eyes and smiled a bit seeing John. 

“Hello, Edrik. How are you?”

“I'm sick...” The boy murmured. 

“Yes, I've heard. But I'm a doctor and I'm here for you.”

“Will you stay with me?” Edrik asked. 

“Sure. Sherlock will you bring us a tea?” He looked towards the detective. 

Sherlock nodded and left taking the bowl and the towel with himself. 

John sat down next to the boy, leaning against the bed head. 

“You wanted to see me, why?” He asked, wrapping his arm around Edrik. The boy just hugged to him. 

“Because you're a doctor.”

John smiled. 

“Do you want me to tell you about the other Doctor? _The_ Doctor? He is always helping people whenever they need it.”

“Yes, please.” Edrik looked up at him, pressing his face to John's chest. 

“Okay, so. There is this Doctor, you see. He isn't a man, he's an alien. When he meets someone new, he always says: 'Hello, I'm the Doctor' and he smiles. The Doctor is a time traveller; he has a space ship called TARDIS. It's a blue police box, but it's bigger on the inside.”

Sherlock came back in with two cups of tea and looked at them with surprise. 

“The Doctor? Really?” He smirked. 

“Hush, Sherlock. Edrik wanted to listen to about Doctor Who.”

“Doctor who?” The boy asked.

John chuckled and pressed his face against dark curls. 

“Because we don't know his name...”

Sherlock sighed and left them.

It was good to see them together. It was good to see that Edrik was calmer and that John could take care of him. Sherlock headed downstairs, there was laundry to do, and he wanted to prepare a meal for son's dinner, tomorrow. Maybe even finish his experiment with the fingerprints. There was at least two hours before John should go to sleep. He had late shifts three nights in a row so it was bloody time for him to rest. 

Doctor Who, really. Sherlock shook his head, preparing vegetables for the meal. John will put a lot of stupid things into boy's head, but that could be good for him. He is a kid after all, and sometimes Sherlock could forget about it. He treated him like a much older lad and maybe John – who always was better in the social connections - was right. John rarely was right when it came to solving crimes, but he had found out about Sherlock and apparently he was right about raising children. 

Thinking about rising up Edrik with John was thrilling. The thought about connection, about the cooperation, about the path they would all travel together. Together... Raising a child together would give Sherlock the proof that John would stay with him. There will be no more women, no more relationships broken apparently because of John's ‘strange flatmate.’ Only John, Edrik, and him; like a family. Maybe Mycroft knew that this was a feasible accomplishment and that was the reason he insisted that Sherlock should the boy. And maybe for the first time in his life he was ready to admit that he owes something his brother; or that his brother had done something for him. 

Sherlock finished the meal and walked to the bathroom to do the laundry. He learned that he has to be really careful with washing his clothes, because Edrik could easily get an allergy. He put all of Edrik’s dirty clothes into the washing machine. And then took some of John's underwear, putting it in there as well. 

He stopped in the kitchen to try to find some new results to conclude his research and putting the fingers in the lower fridge which was – since this morning – locked up. He left his notes on the fridge and started to clean the place up. He moved all his boxes and all his equipment on one side of the kitchen as well as he done with all the cans and bottles. 

When at least the half of the kitchen was clean – safe, as the fridge – Sherlock went back upstairs. He heard John's soft voice and when he looked into the room he saw doctor lying on the edge of the bed with a sleeping Edrik at his side. He was murmuring a lullaby under his breath, brushing his fingers through boy's hair. 

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty; purr, purr, purr.”

And for a long moment Sherlock just stood there in the doorway and watched his flatmate putting his son to bed. 

Edrik was sleeping cuddled to John and when doctor finished the lullaby for the second time, he kissed boy's head and carefully got up. He stopped suddenly, seeing Sherlock. 

“I didn't know that you were here...” 

“You should go to sleep as well.”

“Nah, I have to go back.” John smiled rubbing the back of his neck. “I...”

“Stay at home.” Sherlock folded his arms across his chest. 

John shook his head. 

“They might need me.”

“They'll call you if they need you. Stay at home.”

John came closer to him, but the detective did not move from his spot. Then John came even closer and surprised Sherlock when he put a hand on his forehead. 

“You have fever as well!” He hissed, pulling his hand back. 

“No I don't!” Sherlock revolted. “I am perfectly fine...”

John moved his hand to detective's cheek and then on the back of his neck. 

“Yes, you definitely have a fever. Go to bed, I'll bring you an aspirin.”

“John, I don't need...”

“Hush, Sherlock. Take a shower and go to bed.” 

When the detective opened his mouth again, John just used the same hand to cover it. 

“Hush, or you will wake up Edrik. Go to bed.”

The detective observed him for a second and then just walked out. 

Usually he was the one who broke John's private space. But this time John was the one who did it and it seemed to be so natural that he didn’t even notice. Like taking care of the younger Holmes brought out some maternal instincts. 

And for some reason, Sherlock liked it. 

He took a shower and changed into his pyjamas and dressing gown. And just like that he walked to the living room. Only to be sent back to his bedroom.

“No way, Sherlock.”

“I can lie on the couch. It's not like I will sleep.”

“I don't care. Here, take the aspirin. And here is tea. Your body is weakened because of the lack of sleep and the little food that you do ingest. With such little body maintenance, I’m surprised you haven’t keeled over by now.” 

“Great deduction, Dr. Watson.” Sherlock raised his eyebrow. “I don't take any medications, you should know that.”

“Even an aspirin?” John stood before him with the pill and the cup.

“Especially. I need my mind clear just in case anything were to happen.” 

Watson sighed and handed him the tea.

“Very well, go to bed, I'll come to you in a moment.”

“What for?” The detective asked, taking the cup from John. He was soon pulled by the elbow and pushed into the direction of his bedroom. All done with explanation, of course… And Sherlock went, have expecting for it to happen, and half expecting for it to not. 

His bed was cold, he turned on the small lamp on the night stand so John would see the way. Sherlock was not sure why the doctor would come here, to his room, but apparently he planned to do so either way. 

He waited, listening to the sounds of the flat. There was silence in the upstairs bedroom, but John was wandering around the flat. He was in the kitchen, then the bathroom. When he turned on the water, he then ventured back to the kitchen, stopping in the living room and finally opened the door to the bedroom, with a bowl in his hand, with a cup in the other, along with a book under his arm; he left the door open. 

“In bed now? Good.” 

“What's that?” Sherlock snorted. 

“If you don't want to use the aspirin I have to reduce the fever the old fashioned way.” John shrugged, placing the bowl on the night stand. 

“And that?” He showed at the book. 

“Well, I'm supposed to spend a lot of time here.” He shrugged. 

“No, John. You have to go to sleep.” 

“Later. Lie down, will you?” 

Sherlock did what he was told. John left the book on the edge of the bed and placed a wet towel on detective's forehead. 

“I find this rather idiotic.” Holmes said. 

“If you would only take the aspirin...” John sighed. 

“I can't, John.” The doctor shrugged, pulling an armchair closer to the bed. Sitting down in it with the book he picked up from the living room. “So, what now?” Sherlock asked. “You'll sit here and just change this towel?”

“Yup. Your mother never did that?” He looked at him from above the book. 

“No. My mother never took care of me like that.” Holmes admitted. 

“Then stay still and enjoy.” 

Sherlock chuckled, but let the towel lie on his forehead. They stayed in silence, Sherlock with his hands clasped under his chin, and John reading a book in the armchair. 

Sometime later John changed the towel without the word. Soon, after that Sherlock was drifting off. The doctor stayed in the armchair, reading until he finally fell asleep as well. 

 


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the last one. Hope you don't mind waiting. I had problems with my beta but I'm fine now.   
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to great Chip for beta!

1.

Edrik Holmes woke up in his bed. There was no one in the room, so he just got up and, taking Mr. Rabbit with him, walked carefully downstairs. Daddy was not in the kitchen, and the couch was empty as well. For a moment he felt a shiver of fear, but then he walked to the bathroom – also empty – and stopped by the door to auntie Hudson. Instead of walking out of the flat he pressed Mr. Rabbit closer to his chest and walked to the last door – and he found dad and John. 

Edrik came closer to the bed and climbed in, holding Mr. Rabbit's ear. Dad was asleep; next to his head was a towel and a wet blot but Edrik did not pay attention. He looked at John. He was asleep in the armchair with his book on the floor. They were both here. Edrik just lied down next to his father, cuddled close to him and closed his eyes. A long arm wrapped around him as he was pressed against Sherlock's warm body, and he fell asleep again. 

 

John woke up with cracking pain in his neck. He groaned, sitting up, then froze. Sherlock was still asleep, but some time in the night Edrik decided to join them and now he was sleeping next to his father. John smiled at the view and gently ran his fingers through boy's hair. 

“You should sleep in your own bed," he heard Sherlock murmur. John looked over at him.

The detective's voice was low and rough from sleep; he was watching John without his usual sharpness as he moved his hand a bit, meeting John's at boy's head. 

“I'm fine, Sherlock, really," the doctor replied, blushing a little when he felt Holmes' hand – incredibly warm, rough but not unpleasant. He brushed his fingers along caressed skin and smiled. “I'll make you a breakfast," the doctor said. Sherlock nodded, moving away his hand. 

When John left, Sherlock watched the door. Yes, Edrik's presence made it easier for John to get closer to Sherlock. Not only as a friend; that was not simply a friend's touch. They both know that. Fascinated by the situation, Holmes lied in bed, caressing Edrik's hair until the boy started to stir and open his eyes.

“Good morning, Edrik.” Sherlock looked down at him.

The boy smiled and pulled Mr. Rabbit closer. 

“Good morning...” he murmured. “Where is John?” He looked around the bedroom, searching for the doctor.

The detective smiled as he brushed his hand through the boy's hair. 

“He's making us breakfast. Do you want to go and help him?”

“Can we eat here?” the boy asked, instead of answering the question. 

Sherlock laughed softly.

“You'll have to ask John if he let us.” 

Edrik nodded and got up from bed, wandering to the kitchen, still with Mr. Rabbit in his hand. A minute later he ran back. 

“He said we can! But only if you eat, too.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes but nodded. 

“Fine, fine. I will eat...”

And then the boy was gone again. 

Sherlock sat up, adjusting his pillow. He felt alright, still a bit dizzy after last night, but it was fine. Judging by Edrik's... Hamish's behaviour, he was fine too. And now John was the only person who did not sleep well. He fell asleep around midnight, and even Edrik did not wake him up. 

He liked to watch John sleep; he had done this once or twice when he had a rather hard night. When the urgent need of doing something, going somewhere, or taking anything was too much, he just sat in John's bedroom and watched him, forcing himself to stay calm. John had a light sleep if he was not deadly tired, so every movement could wake him up. During those particular nights, Sherlock had no intention to explain himself to John, even if he should. 

Sherlock smiled when Hamish walked into bedroom with two empty mugs in his hands. He handed them to his father and climbed back on the bed. John came in with toasts and tea, after a moment he brought himself a mug. 

Sherlock pour some tea into son's mug and watched him as the boy ate; he took a bit of toast with cheese and salad and wrinkled his nose. Giving his mug back to Sherlock, Hamish placed the bread on the bed.

“Oi! Hamish, what are you doing?” John looked at him. 

“I don't like it...” The boy explained as he looked at his father.

“Don't you dare, Sherlock. He has to eat, it's enough that you don't eat properly. Don't spoil the child.”

Holmes looked at his son. 

“I will eat your salad but you must eat the rest, okay?”

Hamish nodded and Sherlock ate the vegetable. And John bit his tongue because he should not fight with Sherlock in front of the kid. But he'd shoot him a really angry look, which Sherlock decided to ignore. 

 

When they finished the meal, Sherlock left cleaning to John while he walked into the living room, where Edrik sat down with puzzles. The detective opened his laptop and soon he was lost in his research. He was not so immersed to not pay attention to his son, but enough to ignore John's whatever-he-was saying to him. The doctor left soon after that, and Holmes was left alone with Hamish. 

The silence lingered for some time, then Edrik stood up and walked to his room. And he ran back a few seconds later in panic.

“Mr. Rabbit is lost!” He shouted, clutching onto Sherlock's legs.

The detective looked at him with surprise. 

“What? Mr. Rabbit? Where did you put him?”

“He's not there!” The boy began to sob “He's lost...”

Sherlock sat Edrik on his lap and hugged him to calm him down. After a moment or two the boy looked at him with eyes full of tears. 

“He's lost...”

“Then we shall find him, Hamish and I. Stop crying and we can start looking for him, okay?”

The boy nodded and wiped off his eyes and cheeks; Holmes smiled at him and ruffled his hair. He then stood up and took boy's hand. 

“First of all, show me the crime scene.”

“You can find him?” Hamish looked at him hopefully. 

“Of course, I'm sure he's somewhere around the flat.”

They walked to John's room which he was now sharing with Edrik. The boy pointed at the bed. 

“Mr. Rabbit was here...”

Sherlock looked around carefully. Usually John's room was very tidy and everything had it's own place. And now there were Hamish's clothes on the chair, his books on the lowest shelf and his coat hung on the back of the chair. 

“Do you see him?”

“No, I don't see Mr. Rabbit yet, but we will find him. I'm observing now. I remember how the place used to look like and now I'm comparing this to what I see now. Thanks to that, I see changes.”

Hamish held his father's hand, waiting for him to say something more. Sherlock was sure that boy might not quite understand but he seemed to like the tone Sherlock was using. 

“Now, he was on the bed, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Look around, Hamish, did something else disappeared as well?”

The boy turned around, watching the room with a frown. 

“Um... My pyjamas?” He looked at his father. 

“Excellent. I'm pretty sure it disappeared at the same time as Mr. Rabbit. That means that he's possibly in the same place. Now come, we will search the flat.”

They came back to the living room and Sherlock pointed out to his son few more things missing - a towel in the kitchen and a napkin in the living room. Hamish watched father with an 'awe' and he followed after him around the flat. 

“Now, missing clothes, towel, napkin and Mr. Rabbit... That's interesting case. I did't take them, you neither, right?” He knelt in front of his son. 

“Yes.” Edrik answered. 

“Good, so, who has done this?”

“John!” 

“Indeed. And why would he need all those things?”

This time Edrik stopped for a moment before the answer. 

“To wash them?” he finally asked. Sherlock smiled at him proudly 

“Excellent! So, where they should be right now?”

“In the washmachine!”

The boy ran to their bathroom and climbed on his toes to check the washmachine. Sherlock followed after him and helped him. 

“And? Is he there?”

“Yes!” With Sherlock's help Edrik took Mr. Rabbit out and showed it to father. “Look!”

“I see evidence that someone ate chocolate in his bed...” Holmes raised his eyebrow and stood the boy on the floor. The rabbit was indeed sticky from chocolate. Hamish blushed. “I think Mr. Rabbit needs to take a bath, don't you think?” The boy nodded. “Then we need to leave him here. I promise that John give him back to you when he's clean again.”

They came back to the living room and Sherlock sat at his research. He was creating a data base about types of paper one can buy in London. That was something he wanted to do for a long time now, finding it rather necessary. But now, when he finally had time, he stopped and looked at his son. Hamish was sitting on the floor at his usual place and he was murmuring to himself. Bowed low above the table he was colouring the drawing. He was pointing at some parts and talking to himself about them. When he spotted his father is watching him, he blushed and dropped his head even lower. 

“Do you want to show me what you're drawing?” Sherlock asked. 

The boy looked at him from under his fringe, making sure he was not angry, then nodded and came to him with the paper. 

Sherlock closed the laptop and moved it aside, then he took Hamish on his lap and wrapped his hand around boy's waist. 

“This is me and you” the boy pointed at two figures. 'Sherlock' was wearing long, dark blue coat and he hold a gun in extended hand. Next to 'Hamish' stood something what must have been Mr. Rabbit. It was at leas as tall as Sherlock's figure. 

“This is Mr. Rabbit, I assure.” Said Sherlock and the boy nodded. 

“And here is uncle Mycroft.” The boy showed at the round figure with a piece of cake in his hand.

Sherlock smirked seeing his brother like that. His umbrella were hanging in the air next to him. 

“And where is John?” Sherlock asked. Hamish looked up at him. 

“It's our family... Is John a part of family?”

Sherlock looked away, thinking. He always liked John for asking the right questions, but young Hamish showed him what it meant to ask the right questions. Trying to explain to Hamish the reasons of human social behaviours was a hell of a task, and Sherlock often had to think things over to give his son the right answer. Just like now. 

They were not a family, no. But at the same time John was probably more a family for Sherlock than Mycroft and Edrik obviously saw it. So, how to explain it to him? 

“He's not a member of our family.” He admitted finally. “But I like him very much and I like living with him.”

“Why he isn't in our family?”

“To be in a family you have to be born in one, as you were, or you have to marry someone in that family, as done my mother to my father, or you have to be adopted. John is none of those categories.”

“Can't you adopt him?” The boy turned to his father, giving him a serious look.

“No, Hamish. You can adopt a child if the child doesn't have a family. But you cannot adopt an adult.”

Hamish cuddled next to Sherlock. He was quiet for a long moment and when Holmes opened his laptop again, the boy looked at him. 

“I can't draw John on my picture?”

“No, if this is only a family. But if this is a family and friends then you can do this.”

He watched his son in the corner of his eye, while writing down everything he knew about Arctic Paper. The boy was worried and he was thinking over the idea Sherlock gave him. Eventually he shook his head. 

“No. I don't want friends there. I don't want to draw uncle Lestrade.”

Sherlock pressed his nose against the boy's dark curls, kissing his head lightly.

“But you know John isn't like Lestrade?”

“How is he then?” Hamish looked at him.

“I don't know.” Holmes admitted as he smiled at the boy. “Draw another picture with people who live here, at 221B, okay?”

Hamish smiled at the resolution. He got up from his father's lap and went back to the coffee table. 

When John came back some time later with the groceries the boy joined him in the kitchen. He showed him finished drawing. 

“It's me and you and dad. We all live here.”

John smiled at him, handing him back the paper and showing cookies. 

“We will eat them after the dinner. Sherlock...”

“Sorry, leaving.” The detective shows up in the kitchen, kissed his son's head and smiled at John. “Take care of him, would you?” he asked as he left. 

John was left stunned in the kitchen while Hamish walked his father to the door. When the boy was back John put himself together and he smiled at Edrik.

“Okay, so we will eat and then we can go for a walk.” He said and Hamish smiled at him. 

 

2.

Spending day with John was different than with dad. Dad talked a lot, explained and did not like people. But John always asked, 'Do you understand?', 'What do you think?', Would you like to?', But that was okay too; Edrik did not mind. And every time Edrik answered 'yes, please' - as uncle Mycroft taught him - John was smiling. Edrik liked that smile - it was a warm one, and dad smiled similar when he was watching him or John. Edrik decided that this was a good smile and he accepted it. 

They ate their dinner. John smiled at the boy. 

“Do you want to eat afternoon snack in park?” he asked. Edrik nodded, because he never ate in park before. 

“Is this a picnic?” he asked, watching as John was packing cookies and a flask with some tea. 

“Yes, but if you want we can go for a real picnic one day. I'm sure your dad will find a lot of things he can show to you in the meadow. Go put on you shoes, okay?”

Edrik took his pair of shoes and sat down on the floor in the living room, putting on his plimsolls. He could not tie them yet, but both Sherlock and Mycroft insisted that he should wear shoes with shoelaces. Even if John did not think this was a good idea, he did not oppose; Hamish was a Holmes after all. He would probably learn to tie them up faster than other children. 

For now he knelt beside the boy and helped him. And then he gave him his jacket - he had jacket and a black coat. John could not resist the smile when he saw both, father and son, very elegant and stylish walking together down the street - and they walked out of the flat. 

They took a cab for the park; John felt good among other parents, keeping an eye on their children. He sat down on the bench and opened the bag. The boy sat down next to him and accepted the cookie as well as a cup with tea.

“Are you my uncle?” he asked suddenly, taking a bit of the cookie.

John almost choked. He should have been prepared for that question, or questions of that kind. But he knew that Edrik was far too young to ask them.... Or maybe he was not.

“Um... No. But you can call me that if you want to.” He smiled, but the boy looked at him with a frown.

“But you are not... Who are you?”

Oh yes, if John thought he can just put Sherlock's son off he must have been mad. He thought for a moment before he answered. 

“I'm your dad's friend. Also I help him in his work, and I'm a doctor when he needs it.” 

“You are not my dad?”

John blushed and shook his head. 

“No, Hamish, I'm only Sherlock's friend. I can't be your father.”

“Why not?”

The boy raised his head and looked at the man with curiosity. 

“Well, because you're Sherlock's son, obviously...”

“Can I be your son too?”

“Theoretically yes... But it's not often..”

“Then I want to be, please.” 

Erik grinned and stood up. He wiped his hands in his trousers and handed John the cup. Stopping in front of the man, he smiled, and John knew that for this smile he would give him absolutely everything.

“I can't do this, Hamish. You already have a father.”

“You don't want me?”

The doctor cupped boy's cheek. “Don't be silly, Mish. I will always want you! But your dad would be really upset if you told him that you want to be my son and not his.”

“Can I have two dads? One...” He touched John's chest. “And two.” He reached towards park's gate. 

John swallowed as he forced a smile. This started to become a bit awkward. It was one thing when you're just joking, but when a three- year- old boy...

“Don't you want to have a mum?” he asked with hope it would take the boy's mind off of the subject. But - as usual - he underestimated young Holmes.

“Auntie Hudson is better than mum. She doesn't shout at me and I can eat cookies. Will you be my dad?”

“Hamish... This is a very important decision, and I can't make it alone. I need to ask your father. His opinion is very important here. Do you understand? It depends on him if he likes me enough to let me raise you.” 

“You can call him.” 

“No, I can't. There are conversations which you have to have in person.” 

“Why?”

“Because...” John adjusted boy's shirt. “Sometimes you have something important to say and you want to know how the other person will react. Your dad told you how much you can tell from the way someone looks, right?” 

Hamish nodded and looked at the playground.

“Can I go play?” he asked looking back at John.

“Sure, I'll wait here, okay?”

The boy smiled and scurried to the sandpit. 

 

3.

It was evening when Sherlock came back; he hung his coat and when he turned to the living room he spotted his son, standing in the doorway, holding fresh-washed Mr. Rabbit tight to his chest.

“What's wrong?” Sherlock knelt on the floor. The boy came closer to him and cuddle to father. 

“John...” He whispered frightened. “He's screaming...” 

Sherlock looked at the door immediately and after a long moment of silence he heard doctor's moan. He had a nightmare. 

“Is John sick?” Edrik asked quietly.

“No, no Edrik.” He kissed the boy's head and stood up. “He's just having a nightmare, you know? A really bad dream. We have to help him. Do you want to?” He looked down at his son, and the boy nodded with a serious look on his face. 

Hamish was still frightened as he held Mr. Rabbit really tight. He took his father's hand and followed him into the room.

John lied down on Sherlock's bed, the duvet crumpled around his ankles. He pressed a hand to his wounded shoulder. The detective moved toward the bed, Edrik still following after him, hidden behind his legs – and pressed a hand over John's. 

“It's okay, John.” He said calmly. “You're okay, open your eyes.” For a moment the doctor just lied still, but eventually he did what he was told as he tried to rise up. 

“Hush, you're okay," the detective repeated. “You scared Edrik.”

“What? Edrik?” John sat up slowly. The boy looked at him from behind his dad's legs. “I'm sorry...” he whispered. “Come here.” Edrik looked at his father but came to the bed and let the doctor pull him on it. The man hug him and Hamish wrapped his arms around his neck. “I'm sorry, it was only a bad dream...”

Sherlock left them for a moment, closing the door. He took a glass of water from the kitchen. Leaving his scarf on the couch, he came back. John was sitting with the boy on his lap, talking about his dream. Sherlock handed him the glass and ruffled his son's hair. 

“I think that if you go to sleep with John he will be fine.” 

The boy looked up at him. 

“And you?” He asked with fear in his voice. 

“It's not necessary...” the doctor started, but Sherlock cut him off. 

“It is, John. You won't go to sleep easily, until you have someone who can calm you down.”

“You can't leave all of this on Hamish's back. Come to bed as well.”

Sherlock observed John's face for a couple of seconds. The doctor flushed but could stand Sherlock's gaze. The detective sighed and nodded. 

“Fine, move aside.” 

Sherlock sat on the bed and took off his shoes. John lied down with Edrik, so the boy was between them when Sherlock lay down as well. They both wrapped their arms around Hamish, and the boy smiled, hugging Mr. Rabbit. 

Sherlock watched John over Edrik's head. They were just lying like that, not moving, not speaking, until the boy fell asleep. Then Sherlock moved his hand and brushed his fingers against John's cheek. 

“What are you doing?” the doctor asked. 

“Enjoying our first night in a common bed," the detective replied. John chuckled and nodded. 

“It may be a start of a new custom, if you give my bed to Edrik. And if you decide that you want to sleep with me sometimes...”

“I think I might like it. I can always just read a book.”

“I'm not sure if it helps...”

“It will. I'll be next to you to stop all your nightmares.” The warmth in Sherlock's voice made John blush. He hid his face in Hamish's hair – the boy sighed in sleep and cuddle to John. 

As the silence fell, John started to feel a bit drowsy. He sighed in every minute, ready to go to sleep. But then looked at Sherlock with a smile.

“Hamish asked me today... If I can be his father.” John brushed his fingers through the boy's hair. 

Sherlock watched him for a moment, deducting him, even now in the dead of the night. 

“I don't mind.” 

John chuckled at the statement. As if it would be that easy... 

“And stop worrying about what people will say. They know very well that we are... involved.”

“Are we, Sherlock?”

The doctor asked politely, but in a surprised tone. Holmes huffed and turned his gaze, bashed. But when John did not take up the subject, the detective sighed. 

“We live together again. You left your girlfriend three days after my return; you didn't want to hurt her - your words exactly. You were afraid - and you hoped - that we could start solving crimes again. You love it. Also, you did not kick me out after I brought my son. You have accepted him and took care of him.”

“Very nice observation, Sherlock,” the doctor said blankly. “But what about your feelings? No, not mine, I know what I feel. But I don't know about you. I want to hear about your feelings.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, closed it and then tried again. After a long minute, he was finally able to speak. 

“I think I should be very grateful that you accept Edrik...”

“No, Sherlock, no. I want to hear about your feelings for _me_. I want to know if you feel anything for me.”

“John, you know very well that I would never let anyone be so close. I gave you my son and I trusted you with my life. I... I find myself very attached to you.”

John almost chuckled. That was the closest thing to 'I love you' that he will probably ever hear from the detective. 

The need to hear such things from Sherlock became John's obsession some time ago. The detective came back from dead, he entrusted him his son. He came back for _John_. And something in John knew that this must mean anything, but Sherlock acted just like he always did. So now, when he finally could hear something from Holmes, he felt happy. 

Fortunately, having a child helped Sherlock with showing feelings. What was not a surprise because Edrik - or Hamish - was a ridiculously adorable boy. Sherlock in his age had to look a lot like him...

Sherlock snorted and shifted closer, so he could wrapped his arm around John. 

“You think too much,” he said. 

“Says the man who has a 'mind palace'.” John chuckled. He grinned at the touch and rested his hand on Sherlock's arm. 

“This nightmare of yours, what was that?”

John frowned. 

“The same as always. Me in Afghanistan, I'm wounded and I can't run. I try to shout but no one can hear me through the storm...” John began to shiver in fright. Sherlock's hand slipped to the back of his neck and rested there, warm and calmly. 

“You're not alone, John. You have a family, since Edrik want you to become his father.”

“But you know we can't just...”

“It doesn't have to be official. For now. We can change it later. Or Mycroft will do it. But I'm afraid that you are in the same family as Mycroft.”

“Maybe he won't kidnap me again?”

“He did this after my return?”

“Yes, he wanted to know how you were. You didn't go to him?”

“No, John. I was in hurry.”

“He's your brother, Sherlock, you should...”

Holmes shook his head. 

“No, John. You don't understand.”

“Would you like Hamish to act like this around his brother? Or me?” The detective watched Watson for a long, long moment. John reached and brushed his thumb against one of those gorgeous cheekbones. 

“This is the same thing, Sherlock. We are all family now, you said so.”

“No, John, it's...” 

“Please...” John raised his eyebrow. “I waited for you, I accepted you and your son. Would you prefer me to act like you act around your brother? I don't think so.”

Sherlock sighed with an irritation. 

“Really, John, you should go to sleep. You've become horridly moralistic.”

“Will you stay with us?”

“Yes, probably. We talked about it, right?”

John only smiled as he hid his nose in boy's hair, falling asleep soon afterward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at the end I would like to thank all of you who read this and mention that I'm in the middle of negotiations with myself about the second part. Also there were some hints about the third one so... maybe we will meet again.


End file.
